Shade of Intelligent Blue
by FireChestnut
Summary: Calm, collected, he was the one Shepard had always relied on to get the job done. Garrus remembers, she remembers: a shade of intelligent blue. FemShepXGarrus, eventual romance.


**AN: **I've had this idea in my head for a while, as any other ME fan would after playing the game. I love Garrus, I love everybody...especially Garrus. This fic will be centered around Commander Jane Shepard and Garrus, and will contain some reminiscence of their past. Romance later on. Also, pumafus are of my own creation. They're a native to Palaven and resemble a skunk and red panda.

Please R and R.

~Chestnut

* * *

Rain clouds billowed in great swirling masses above their tiny alcove. Thunderous winds blew the vegetation here and there; the rain falling down in slanted sheets. The stern former C-Sec officer looked to his right, and watched as the woman's ribcage expanded with air. She was sleeping, probably exhausted from their trek up the rocky mountain side. He looked out into the horizon, his predatory eyes scanning over every nook and cranny. Off in the distance, he could see the outline of the shuttle, it's sparkling white exterior glowing from the haze of rain pounding its surface.

The planet-average in size-was desolate and full of old growth. Slate mountains, dull-green vines and pools of salty water seemed to add to the misty desolation of this barren world. They had passed many wind-swept caverns along the way, but he knew Shepard was growing weary, and the current alcove they were in now was big enough for the two of them. Carved by angry winds and eroded by water, he dragged a talon down the smooth surface that made up the wall.

He had forgotten the mission status; something about crazed space farmers fighting mercs, or was it the other way around? The turian was curious as to why Blood Pack warriors would be in geth space; too many questions and answers.

* * *

So he did have a listener: it's a pumafu, a runt too. He can see it clearly now, it's glassy little eyes peering out at him from the underbrush. He made an odd smacking noise with his beak,

'come on, it's okay,' he cooed to it coaxingly. It scampered away. He was sure if he tried, if he really put some effort into it, he would be able to tame one.

Then most defiantly he would have some one to talk to.

When Garrus was ten he was given a pet pumafu for his birthday, by his father. What did his father look like? He can't get a fix on it. Perhaps it was because he had pushed his father to the back of his mind, after all of that C-Sec business. Garrus' mother persists as a clear image, full colour, framed by glossy earth photo-paper, but he can only recall his father only in details: his stony face, the fringe highlighted by the kitchen window, his left talons planted on the table, cut off by his robe cuff. His father is a sort of jumbled up melody; a pastiche of sorts.

Garrus could never get far enough away from him to see all the details at once.

The occasion that was his birthday was rarely celebrated by turians, well, the 'human' ones his mother insisted on throwing for him. He's repressed his birthdays: they weren't a matter for general celebration. Other turians his age didn't receive presents wrapped in odd coloured packaging, they received gifts that would help them on later in life, not a book about human anatomy, or palaven sciences. Humans are too soft and pink, especially naked. His talons could easily tear through their flesh. His mother would go out of her way after breakfast to buy him some embarrassing present-sleep wear for children with fuzzy animals, a music chip no respectable person under thirty would listen to, underwear ornamented with krogans-then she would wrap it up in that coloured paper, all sloppily wrapped with tape (turians aren't very good with tape), and she would dump it on his lap with a horrifying, wide grin on her face, which involved flaring her mandibles and barring her teeth. Any human witnessing a turian doing this would run and call the police.

His father would then proceed to make everything even more awkward by telling Garrus about this really, really special and important date that had slipped from his head, and ask Garrus if everything was okay, tell him he was almost fifteen and ready to join the military, and he'd top it all off with giving him a 'man talk' about lady-turians and the likes. Then he would send him a standardized extra-net e-birthday card, which consisted of a bunch of turians and quarians doing a conga line with the mechanical voice of some AI saying '_Happy happy birthday to you, and we hope all your wishes come true!'. _He would then come up with a gift the day after, a gift that would not be a gift, but a tool or some intelligence-enhancing game or other hidden demand he was meant to measure up to. But measure up to what? There was never any standard; or there was one, but it was so cloudy and immense that nobody could see it, especially not Garrus.

* * *

'Garrus?'

Her soft voice started him.

'Yes?'

He watched as she rubbed her eyes, a curious human action.

'How long was I out?'

'About two hours.'

Her face crinkled up briefly, and she struck him on the shoulder.

'You should have woken me up.'

Although it was a friendly gesture, he still reeled back slightly at her sleep-deprived outburst. A small pat on the shoulder was nothing compared to what Jack would do...well, if Shepard were Jack at the moment. He would probably find himself upside down thanks to her powerful biotics; he didn't like the idea of being tossed around like a turian rag-doll.

'...should get going,' she sleepily murmured. He adjusted his sniper-rifle, and watched in faint curiosity as she stretched her upper body.

Once the rain had stopped to a slow, but perpetual drizzle, they begin their trek through the soaked temperate rain-forest. Scanning his eye over the various data being collected by his visor, he knew they were heading in the right direction. Shepard yawned behind him. _Why do humans yawn? _He thought, _is it to stretch the jaw muscles, _he didn't notice the root on the ground, _to relieve str--_he could hear the thumping of her boots against the ground as she rushed towards him.

'Are you alright?' She asked in a calm tone, placing her left hand on his arm. He didn't remember being on the ground. Embarrassed, and slightly agitated by his lack of awareness, Garrus brushed himself off and shot her a fleeting glance.

'Yes, I'm fine.'

He didn't like being moody towards her, he tried his best to remain calm and collected, but tripping over something as silly as a root can make even the toughest of turians' loose their grasp. Shepard was still kneeling beside him. Out of curiosity, he sniffed the air. Her damp, mousy brown hair was permeating some sort of odour. It smelled of sweat; the perfume of the fit, with underlying scents of clean soap.

Garrus had been interested in Shepard since that day in the Citadel Tower when he first saw her. He was arguing with Pallin about Saren, something along those lines, she stepped off the elevator in that shiny, plastic-y suit and he couldn't help but feel empowered by her presence. He wasn't exactly sure as to why he was interested, but he knew he was. That's why he offered to accompany her on this mission, to get to know her better. That was one of his goals; goals kept his mind busy.

He wondered why she was so tired as another yawn escaped her mouth. Yawning, that's why he tripped in the first place. He was thinking about why humans yawn. Was she having a difficult time sleeping? He knew that was the case for him.

'Sorry, I've just been tired lately.'

'Why do humans yawn?' He asked. Damn it, Garrus! Think before speaking!

She chuckled. It made his chest swell when she laughed; the action was so rare that he had forgotten what it sounded like.

'Something about oxygen. Animals do it too, I think I've even seen a few asari yawn.'

'Animals yawn?'

'Sure, dogs, cats, horses, hamsters, space hamst--'

'I always though it was to stretch your jaw muscles,' he said, cutting her off.

'You're oddly curious today, Garrus.'

He blinked one, and then twice; the third time he just kept his eyes open and twitched his left mandible-it was going to start raining again-the light mist now was nothing compared to the downpour earlier, but he hated the rain. He accepted her hand and she pulled him back onto his feet, and a small bud of a smile began to flower on her face. To others, it would appear as a slight twitch of the lips, but Garrus was keen to her facial movements; they were like an explosion of fireworks to him. Humans had such a vast range of visible emotion that they were often hard to read, but her smiles were simple. They made everything else seem complex.

'Idiot,' mumbled Garrus, pushing his way through the dripping-wet vegetation.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed the prologue. I'll have chapter 1 up shortly.


End file.
